


Blood & Soil

by Jbee



Series: Gates of Askr: Year One [34]
Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Gen, Pagan Festivals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25962397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jbee/pseuds/Jbee
Summary: Kiran accompanies Soren and Laslow to the Emblian Blood festival. Once they arrive Soren confesses his plans for the future while Kiran has an interesting run in with a strange fortune teller. Soon after Veronica takes this opportunity to demonstrate her power to put Askr in its place.
Relationships: Senerio | Soren/Summoner | Eclat | Kiran
Series: Gates of Askr: Year One [34]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703545
Kudos: 2





	Blood & Soil

**Author's Note:**

> This series is a collection of short stories driven by the FEH Subreddit Weekly Writing Prompts, Aug. 17, 2020. "Kiran and the Order are invited to participate in Embla's festival!"

“Why do they wear these?” Kiran lifted the decretive mask up, covering half of her face and tying the ribbon, securing it behind her head. She looked around at the crowded midway, the stalls selling festival foods and memorabilia to mark the occasion. It was the Emblian Festival of Blood and Princess Veronica had extended an invitation to few Askran representatives. Alfonse had chosen to send Anna, Soren, Laslow and herself to represent the Order. How Soren had talked the prince into letting her come? She had no idea, but she was thankful for the “day-pass” out of the Askran capital.

It felt like she had spent every waking hour in the library since her discussion with Líf. She scoured the shelves during her free time looking for anything related to Álfr, the supposed creature that he had found in her room. Every time she thought she was close to something it was nothing more than a dead end, a child’s poem or fairytale. There was never anything concrete, needed something more. A small part of her started to wonder if Líf was even telling her the truth.

“An Emblan tradition.” Soren adjusted his own mask, meticulously running his hand through his long hair after tying the ribbon. “There was a time that they used sacrificial offerings to their Emblan god in the hopes of enriching and blessing their harvest in the fall.” He explained as they walked between the crowds, stopping in front of a stall selling cakey rounds topped with berry jam. He continued after ordering a set of fried goods for them to share. “The soil here is not very good for most crops, too acidic. They believe if they fed Embla he would in turn feed their crops, promoting growth. They wear masks during the ritual to hide their tears and the identity of the of those sacrificed. Made it easier for their families.”

“How awful. I’m glad Askr doesn’t do anything like that.” Kiran quietly murmured, not wanting any of the Emblians to hear her. The locals had been staring at them since their arrival. Each Emblan was dressed in dark formal wear, wearing a unique mask, some were beautiful, with feathers and frills and others were grotesque, with elongated features, twisted into silent screams. Other than the masks the wore the Askran party stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Be glad we have good farming land. The people of Askr are not above such ideologies.” Soren paid for their snack and they continued walking towards the open plaza at the top of the midway, a large bonfire lit in the middle with dancers spinning around it. A low stage was set up on the far side of the plaza with an empty throne, flanked by massive dragon wings. “Given the right circumstances, I’m sure they would do the same. There’s not much different between the people of Askr and Embla.”

“Well at least the masks are beautiful!” Kiran poked one of the fried cakes with the wooden pick, eager to try them, “How much did Anna charge you for them anyways?” she asked shoving the whole cake in her mouth.

“Nothing. She gave them to me.”

“She gave them to you?!” her jaw dropped, Anna had spent every night making masks once she found out she was being sent here. her plan was to sell them outside the entrance once they arrived. _“Make some quick coin”_ she said. “No way! I don’t believe it. What did you do?”

“Oh, I twisted her arm.” He smugly shrugged and enjoyed a sweet treat.

“No, really!” Kiran cried, “I have to know, so I can use this black magic too!”

“No. Really.” Soren smirked, “I bought-out some of her goons and had them literally twist her arm until she gave them to me.”

Kiran laughed, poking a second cakey round, “But aren’t you worried about her retaliation?” she asked, lifting the treat with the stick and tilting her head to catch the fried dough and dripping jam in her mouth in one motion, “You know she’s not one you want to mess with. She could make your life a nightmare in the office.” Kiran mumbled between large bites.

“Well, I was going to wait until we got back to tell you, but now that you have brought it up.” Soren’s mood became somber and he used his wooded pick to rip and push around the last fried cake in the dish he held. “I plan to resigned at my position when we return to the capital.”

“What?!” Kiran coughed in surprise, choking on her food. “Why?”

“With everything that happened over the summer, while you were on the coast. Alfonse forbidding me to contact you about Cherche’s incarceration and their plan with the dragonstone.” He sighed, passing the dish with the last cake to Kiran. “I know that his decision to keep you uninformed was the correct one, but at the same time, it’s not sitting well with me.”

“But what will you do?” Kiran quietly asked, looking at the dish and the pieces of fried dough he had ripped apart while he was speaking. Now she wasn’t feeling very hungry too. “You love your job!”

“I don’t know. Do what other heroes do?” He wiped his hands on a cloth he took out of his pocket, he wasn’t looking for her to answer that question, just accept that it was going to happen.

“Ah! There you are my lovelies!” Laslow threw an arm around each of their shoulders, and pulled Soren and her in, towering over them. “That looks delicious!” Kiran offered him the dish with leftovers, that he happily took. “Why the long faces?” he started to jab at the cake pieces, swiftly eating them, while tapping his foot to the beat of the drum that played.

“I was informing Kiran about my plan to resign when we return.” Soren nonchalantly said, folding his cloth and tucking it back in his robe.

“Laslow knows?!” Kiran exclaimed, “How many others know before me?” she grumbled and crossed her arms.

“Of course he does! You’re not the most… never mind.” Soren sneered, annoyed she would ask that. “Just the two of you know. Which, better stay that way.”

“I just can’t picture what the Order would be like without you running part of it.” She pouted. Soren and her may not have always got along, but she always knew, no matter what happened, he had her back.

“Ahh. Life goes on, who knows what the future might hold.” Laslow romantically sighed, tossing the paper dish in a nearby waste basket, looking over across the plaza, his face lit up with excitement. “Unless… Why don’t we check out the fortune teller! Perhaps she reads tea leaves!” he pointed at a booth, draped in elaborate curtains. A woman dress in red robes covered with golden charms stood out front inviting patrons to join her inside for a reading. An older woman sat beside the booth, the fortune teller’s mother perhaps? The crone swayed gently side to side, staring at the bonfire.

“A waste of money.” Soren snorted.

Kiran laughed, “Yeah, and I don’t think I want to know my future anyways, even if it was real!”

“Very well.” Laslow sighed in disappointment, looking over to the centre plaza as Emblians danced. “How about we join them then?” he offered his hand to Soren, bowing slightly. “It has been ever so long.”

“I don’t know.” Soren’s pale cheeks flushed slightly, but he shook his head, nodded to the side at the summoner. “We shouldn’t leave Kiran on her own anyways.”

“No, go!” Kiran nudged the mage, “I will stand here and watch. I promise I won’t go anywhere!” she wasn’t sure when they would get another opportunity like this and she wanted to encourage Soren to relax and enjoy himself for once. Maybe if he was in a good mood when they arrived home he would change his mind about resigning. “Go have fun! You deserve it!”

The sun began to set, the fiery orange sky matched the dark red and gold robes of the Emblan people. Kiran smiled to herself as she watched her two friends join the other dancers around the bonfire in the plaza. Laslow happily lead the two through the slow and monotonous dance, their arms clasped tightly, side by side, smiling and whispering to each other. Turning swiftly and switching the direction on the sound of the bass drums. These movements cause Soren’s long hair to catch the breeze and flow around his shoulders. She began to get lost in the song, hypnotized by their movements and reminisce about the time she had spent with her captain on his ship.

“Huh?” Kiran felt something cold wrap around her wrist and pull her behind a stall. The old woman that sat beside the fortune tellers tent grasped Kiran’s arm. Her eyes were cloudy behind her mask, and she had fresh drool running down her wrinkled chin.

“The night mare sends her foals to the castle!” The old woman leaned in, and started to mumble, her white eyes moving back and forth at a rapid pace.

“Let go of me!” Kiran grabbed on to the woman’s arm, pulling at her hand in an attempt to pry the old woman off of her.

“Beware of her temptations!” the woman continued, she held fast, her other arm reaching for Kiran’s face with long unkempt nails. “She can give you back all you have lost!”

“Stop it, you’re scaring me…” Kiran recoiled from the woman, trying to break free.

“Only the golden sun can awaken the summoner.” The old woman squeezed hard, staring at Kiran but focused on something beyond her.

“Get off her crone!” Laslow pushed through the crowds towards Kiran and the woman with Soren close behind him.

“You must stop the Mare’s stampede on the waking world!” The old woman held on to the summoner, and gasped, gurgling sounds escaping her throat before her grip loosened, letting Kiran go.

“Enough mother!” The fortune teller cried out, grabbing the old woman’s arm. “My apologies, please, she meant no harm. She is old and becomes confused when the sun sets.” She explained. The old woman began to open and close her mouth like a fish, gasping for air as her daughter led her away.

Laslow watched the mysterious Emblan woman disappear into the crowd of people before turning to check on Kiran. “What happened? Did she hurt you?”

“It’s okay.” Kiran rubbed her wrist, and tried to recall what the old woman had told her, it happened so fast. “She… she just startled me.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Soren squeezed her shoulder, leaning over and trying to make eye contact.

“Yes.” She finally gave him a reassuring smile. “Let’s just get back and enjoy the festival, okay?”

Soren nodded, with pursed lips. Weather he believed her or not he wasn’t going to push for more information. At least not yet. The trio heard the sounds of drums rolling and turned to see a procession coming towards them. Row after row of the Emblan royal court, led by Princess Veronica. They made their way to the far side of the plaza to the low stage. Veronica took the throne as the members of her court filed in on each side of her. A priestess, a tall woman with a strong jaw, was the last to take the stage, and began to recite prayers in their ancient tongue of Embla.

“She sure has a lot of advisors.” Kiran whispered to Soren.

“Yes. Apparently the Embla court is very competitive.” He whispered back. They stood to the far side of the plaza. Out of ear shot, trying to be respectful to their hosts. “I have Sanaki send me reports. I’m afraid the absence of Veronica’s brother allows for many members of her court to take advantage of her condition. Use her shadowed thoughts to progress their own agendas.”

“How… awful. I’m glad Askr isn’t like that.” Kiran found herself repeating her thoughts from earlier.

“Be glad for the Order and the Queen regent. Like I said, Askr isn’t much different than Embla.” Soren stressed again before turning his attention back to the stage.

The priestess raised her arms up and continued in the common tongue, “Today we are honored to share our ways and traditions with our neighbors, who followed our brave princess Veronica, descending into Hel’s realm to defeat the God of Death herself. Saving all of Zenith from her icy touch.”

Soren and Kiran exchanged questionable looks, smirking at each other and shaking their heads in disbelief. Is this how the events of last year were recounted here? Kiran tried to hide her amusement, until she heard her name called from the stage.

“Kiran? The Summoner of the Order, the vessel that unleashed Veronica’s wrath, has volunteered to join us in praising Embla today.” The priestess looked out over the crowd, reaching out with her hand to beckon the summoner to the stage. “Come child. Reveal yourself!”

She looked over to Soren, who was just as shocked as she was. Before he could stop her, Kiran jogged towards the stage. _This isn’t the first time you have been honoured by an entire nation,_ she told herself remembering when Nilf did the same thing in the summer, _you got this!_ Kiran confidently climbed the stairs and smiled at Veronica, who did not return the gesture. Instead an advisor leant over and whispered something in the princess’s ear causing a wicked smirk to curl her lips.

“Remember this day, as the first day in our age that we embrace the people of Askr as our own.” The priestess announced to the crowd when Kiran reached her side. “Take this dagger, a gift to commemorate our unity in first blood.” One of the Emblan followers brought out a pillow with a highly polished silver dagger resting on top. The priestess picked it up, presenting it with both hands to the summoner. “May our bonds be as thick as our blood.”

Kiran accepted the dagger that was offered to her, with a slight nod of her head. Turning it over in her hands, it looked to be made of one solid piece of silver, the blade beveled on both sides, curving slightly at the tip. The gift would look quite nice on the mental in her office, Kiran thought to herself.

“May Embla’s blessing be as rich as the blood.” The Priestess announced, and the crowd repeated her words to the sound of drums beating in the near distance. Members of the crowd emerged in bleached robes with bone white masks that covered their entire face, joined the priestess at the front of the stage, kneeling towards the Emblan people. Followers of the priestess stood below them with large bowls.

“W-what’s going on?” Kiran tried to look to Veronica behind her, but the priestess put her hand on Kiran’s back directing her towards the kneeling members. The drums continued to beat and the crowd continued to chant their phrase. _“blessing be as rich as the blood.”_

“Proceed summoner.” The priestess instructed, grasping Kiran’s shoulders from behind and hissing in her ear. “You have first blood. Do not keep Embla waiting.”

“You don’t expect…” Kiran shook her head, digging in her heels pushing back on the priestess. “No! I can’t!” She croaked, loosening her grip and letting the dagger drop to stage. The crowd became silent, their chants trailed off replaced by gasps of disbelief.

“You turn your back on our god?” The priestess scolded the summoner, pushing her hard towards the front of the stage and the Emblians that were waiting to be sacrificed. “Disgrace our ways?”

“I’m not a murderer!” Kiran cried out, stumbling forward, she could feel the tears starting to form, as the crowd began to hiss and shout slurs at her.

“Askr has always thought they are better than Embla. Askr spit on our traditions!” the priestess announced, watching and laughing at the summoner when she quickly strode towards the side of the stage to leave. “But look at how the meek Askran run away, crying!”

“Outta the way!” Laslow shouted, making space for Soren and him to push their way through the crowd to meet Kiran when she hopped down from the side of the stage.

“Embla can’t drink tears!” The priestess shouted, rallying the followers and picking up the dagger. She pointed it towards Kiran. “The summoner only proves to the gods where Zenith’s real strength is.”

“I couldn’t do it.” Kiran cried quietly in Soren’s arms, Laslow keeping the crowd away from them.

“Kiran, It’s not your fault. I had no idea they were going to do that!” Soren wiped her cheeks as tears rolled down under her mask. “We were never informed this was going to happen.”

“Princess, allow me to quench Embla’s thirst!” the priestess asked, sauntering over to the sacrifices.

“She’s not really going to?” Kiran gasped, turning to see the young princess staring blankly at her subjects. It was one thing to use Kiran as a spectacle, but to actually go through with the sacrifice, Veronica wouldn’t, would she?

Veronica slowly lifted her hand and gently flicked her wrist. “Proceed.”

Kiran’s heart stopped, she wasn’t fast enough to look away when the priestess used the fine silver dagger to spill the blood of the first sacrifice, sliding it along their throat and letting them drain into the bowl below. The crowd began chanting again as the drums started to sound.

“Damn it. She knew you wouldn’t do it.” Soren sneered, he wrapped his cape around Kiran, pushing her to follow Laslow out of the crowd and away from the stage. “Veronica and her advisors planned for this to happen, to make Askr look weak.”

Kiran quickly turned to the mage when they reached the out skirts of the cheering crowd. “You can’t quit your job Soren!” she cried, looking back at the plaza and remembering the look on the princess’s face when she gave the priestess her orders to kill those people. “You can’t turn your back on Alfonse, neither of us can! We can’t risk him being alone and becoming like Veronica. He needs all the friends he can get…”

Soren nodded, “I know. You’re right, but first, let’s get away from this place.” He reached for her mask, pulling at the ends of the ribbon and letting it fall to the ground, “You don’t belong here.”

End.


End file.
